


You Shouldn't Be Here

by badboy_fangirl



Series: Incidents in the Life of Lincoln Burrows [2]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: Lincoln and Veronica try to stay away from each other after he marries Lisa.





	

When Michael Scofield sat down next to her on the bench, she scooted over automatically to make room for him. "Hi, stranger," he drawled, a little sadness in the curves of his speech.    
  
"Hi," she replied, feeling no awkwardness, though they hadn't talked in a least a month.    
  
"So, I miss you," he said, putting his arm around her.    
  
"I miss you, too." The first snow had covered the ground the night before, and the dim winter light fit Veronica's mood.   
  
"It was Lincoln who got married, you know, not me. You don't have to be mad at me by association."    
  
"I'm not mad at you."    
  
"Sure you are. You're mad at everyone. Your plans got screwed up. I know I'm pissed about all this, too."    
  
She turned her head and looked at him. "You are?"    
  
"Sure. We had to move, not fun. Lisa is a neat freak, not fun. I don't even think they really like each other, but now we all live together, not fun. She throws up all day long, and then complains when I heat something up in the microwave because the smell makes her feel nauseated. Not fun."    
  
Veronica laughed, the sound rusty even to her own ears. "I see your point. I'm sorry, Michael." She sighed heavily. "I'm being pretty selfish, I suppose. It's just hard, because...well, have you ever had everything you ever wanted, that close," she held her hands up with only an inch of space between them. "And then, boom, it's all gone. Everything. The color from my world, it's like black and white now."    
  
He gazed at her thoughtfully as the door to the classroom they were sitting outside of opened and a flow of high schoolers came gushing out. "I guess not. I've never been that close to getting anything I want. All I know now is if I want to go to college, Lincoln needs to lose his job. We're not poor enough to get full financial aid, but my grades from my first two years of high school don't reflect my intelligence very well, so getting a scholarship isn't very likely."    
  
"Well those two years, and all the other years before those, were tough years for you, can't you explain it to a counselor?"    
  
"Explain that because my brain processes everything around me, it took 4 years with a state paid psycho-therapist to figure out how I can learn properly? Uh, doubtful." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'll do. I'll probably just go to work with Lincoln at the construction site. He thinks he can get me a job there."    
  
"Construction pays well," she said encouragingly.    
  
"Yeah, but it breaks your back, too. Thirty years of that and I'll be ready for the old folks home. I see how tired Lincoln is at the end of each day. I'd really like to do something more with my mind. Like engineering. Then I could work with construction guys, but not labor so hard." He waved his hand like it didn't matter. "But, like Linc says, if you can't have a little faith, shut up the bitchin'." He smiled and tugged her in close for a hug. "See how I missed you? I don't have anyone else to talk to."    
  
Veronica found herself wondering if Lincoln would still go down to his little corner in the dark of night now that he was going to be a father. How else would he give Michael what he needed? "What about Katie?" she asked, to distract herself.    
  
"Oh, that's over. She's was all right, but there's just too much going on right now."    
  
"I'm sorry," Veronica said, letting her head settle into the curve of Michael's neck and shoulder. "I'm sorry I haven't been around either. Forget about Lincoln, you start coming back to my house, like you used to. We can still hang out, and do our homework."    
  
She felt him nod his head against hers. "I won't have him pick me up, is all. That way you don't have to see him all the time."    
  
"Oh, don't worry about that. My dad got me a car for my birthday, so I can drive you around."    
  
"A car! Man, that's some present." 

  
Veronica giggled. "He didn't know what to do with me, because I've been so sad. He thought it would perk me back up." She tipped her head back, a conspiring look in her eyes. "I'm holding out for more."    


 

 

  
  
  
Several months later, Veronica was doing just that, driving Michael home around seven in the evening. They had been studying for a history exam they both had to take the next day; it was the only class they had together, but it had come in handy to be study partners; both felt confident that they had the material covered. As she eased the car to a stop in front of the same building she'd gone into with Lincoln that dark Halloween night, she realized it had been almost a year since the terrible events of that evening. She and Michael were now seniors and she had seen Lincoln maybe a handful of times during all those months. The ache around her heart had lessened, but not disappeared, with time.    
  
"Halloween's a couple weeks away," she commented as Michael opened the car door.    
  
He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. "Haunted house. You gonna go through it this year?"    
  
"Probably not," she said. "You know me, stuff like that gives me nightmares."    
  
"I know. I think it's weird, but I know."    
  
"Just because you can look at anything and know exactly how they made it look like a dead body doesn't mean the rest of us mere mortals can. So leave me al—"    
  
"Michael, oh, thank God, you're here!" Lisa Rix Burrows came running down the steps from the apartment building, a pudgy baby in her arms. "Look, they just called me into work early, and Linc has to work late...and, anyway, can you see where I'm going with this? I need you to look after LJ tonight."    
  
The baby, who was four months old, smiled a toothless smile when he saw his uncle. Michael climbed out of the car and reached for him. "No problem. What time will Lincoln be home?"    
  
"He wasn't sure, there was some sort of problem at the construction site. I just fed LJ, so he should be fine for an hour, hour and a half, and then you can put him down for the night. There's a bottle in the fridge."    
  
"Okay," he said, holding the baby easily with one arm while he dragged his backpack from the floorboard of Veronica's car.    
  
"Hello, Veronica," Lisa called hastily, but warmly. "Sorry to rush off. You kids have a good night!" She kissed the baby soundly on the top of his downy head and then rushed down the sidewalk towards the bus stop that was two blocks up the street.    
  
Michael turned back and leaned down so Veronica had a good view of the baby, who was just about the cutest child she could ever remember seeing. She wondered if she thought that just because he had half of Lincoln's DNA, or if she would have felt the same if she encountered him without knowing who his father was. Michael smiled as only Michael could. "Want to come up? I'll let you change his diaper." He waved the baby's pudgy arm and said in a fake high voice, "Come play with me, Auntie Vee."    
  
Veronica set the emergency break on her car and pulled the keys from the ignition.    
  


 

  
  
  
Lincoln parked his old battered truck in the carport under his apartment building and groaned with fatigue. It was almost eight and he had been at work since before seven that morning. He just wanted a cold beer and the sofa conformed to his ass. He was so tired.   
  
They had moved into a two-bedroom apartment in the same building that he and Michael had lived in by themselves, but now Lincoln only had to climb three sets of floor stairs. He was grateful not to be on the seventh floor anymore, especially after he'd worked like a dog all day. He noticed married life in general made him more tired. Most of the time, he got home from work, spent an hour or two with his wife and son, and then it was time for Lisa to go to work at the diner, where she worked until five in the morning, so Lincoln put LJ to bed himself. He treasured those hours alone with LJ, because if it were possible to love someone too much, he had found that a tiny little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes had captured his heart more tightly than anything ever had. Usually Lisa hit him at the door with more bills or worries that he had no solutions for, but when he held LJ and played with him and got little baby giggles out him, it made him feel he could deal with all the other crap.   
  
The little baby giggles reached him just as he got to his front door, and he found himself forgetting for the moment the bone-deep tiredness, and the stress. That was the magic of LJ. He tried his key in the door only to find the door was already unlocked. He walked in and called a familiar statement out to the household, "How many times do I gotta tell you guys, we need to keep this door locked? Any loco could come by here, you know and—" he stopped his lecture as he walked into the living room from the hall and saw Veronica Donovan on all fours on the floor with his son. She had his shirt up, blowing raspberries into his little Buddha belly and LJ was breathless with giggles.   
  
She looked up, holding her hair back with one hand while her other hand held the baby's shirt clear of his body. "Hi, Lincoln," she said, as if this were a normal occurrence, her in his house, her playing with his baby. Her anywhere near him.   
  
"Hey, Vee," he said, as nonchalantly as possible. "Mike?" he called, just as Michael appeared around the corner from the kitchen.   
  
"Hi, Linc. Lisa had to go to work early, so we're babysitting." His brother's eyes moved back and forth between Lincoln and Veronica, and he tilted his head with an endearing look on his face. Lincoln knew how much Michael hated how things had changed, so maybe for this small moment it could be like old times. Just for a few minutes or so. Michael went back into the kitchen; Lincoln thought he could smell chocolate chip cookies.   
  
His eyes went back to Veronica, who had gone back to entertaining the baby. He didn't want to look at her, didn't want to feel anything as he watched her so naturally interacting with his child. He didn't want to imagine her permanently where she was, or LJ as _their_ baby instead of his and Lisa's, but all the thoughts crowded into his head until he thought his heart might actually burst. He hadn't seen her in ages, but as if in purgatory for having ever touched her in the first place, it was like he had just seen her, just held her naked in his arms for a few fleeting moments, as if she had just whispered, "I love you," and broken down the last of his resistance to her being embedded in his heart. What had ruined it was the baby lying so trustingly under her hands, under her lips. What had taken away something he should never have had in the first place was the thing he most treasured in all the world. It sickened him even as it caused him unbearable joy.   
  
"How're you?" he asked, moving into the living area and dropping down on the sofa behind her. His eyes followed the rounded curves of her buttocks caressingly as she first leaned into LJ and blew on his belly and then as she moved back from him to laugh into his outstretched arms.   
  
"I'm doing all right," she said, glancing up at him from her perched elbows. She held her hair back so that it didn't shroud her face or the baby, and his fingers ached with wanting to touch the silky mass of dark waves. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.   
  
Or had he merely not let himself think about it?   
  
"Linc?" she asked, and from her tone he knew he had missed something.   
  
"What?"   
  
"How are you? You look tired."   
  
_Don't be so observant, Vee. Don't say things with caring in your voice. Don't make me want the comfort that came when your skin touched mine._ "Yeah, I am tired," he said, trying to shake loose from the melancholy that had engulfed him. "One long, stinking day. I'm glad it's over." _I'm glad you're here. God, I miss you. So freaking much._   
  
She looked back at the baby, and then scooped him up off the blanket she had spread out on the floor beneath him. "LJ is the cutest baby in the world, Lincoln. How can you stand it? I just want to gobble him up." To illustrate her point, she kissed his chubby cheeks with enthusiasm and squeezed him against her chest.   
  
Little baby arms wrapped around her, disappearing into her hair. "It's really hard," he said, his inner turmoil fueled by what she said.   
  
Michael came out of the kitchen a few seconds later with a plate of cookies. "Veronica and I were feeling domestic, so we're baking," he explained, offering Lincoln a snack.   
  
"Looks like you guys are playing house. Got something you two want to tell me?" It rolled off his tongue without even a thought, but he immediately knew it was the wrong thing to bring into the precarious peace that was in the room with them.   
  
Veronica's head whipped around; the look she gave him filled him with shame. He took one of the cookies and glanced up at Michael, who remained silent, apparently at a loss for words.   
  
Just then LJ started to fuss and they were all saved from having to address the awkwardness by Michael saying, "Here, I'll take him and get his bottle ready. It's time for him to go to bed, anyway." Veronica handed the baby to him, her eyes still on Lincoln's face. He ate his cookie, but it felt like sawdust in his mouth and he wanted to spit it out.   
  
When Michael left the room, Lincoln couldn't avoid looking at her any longer. But he couldn't take it back and he couldn't bring himself to apologize. He was sorrier than she could ever know, but that had nothing to do with what he had just thoughtlessly said. Their eyes met, his flashing with dangerous emotion, hers full of hurt and angst.   
  
"I can't believe you said that," she said quietly. She pulled her knees into her chest and looped her arms around them casually. "I can't believe you..." Shaking her head, she bowed her head down until she had hidden her face from him.   
  
"What? You're making cookies, you're playing with the baby, it just has a certain look to it. It doesn't mean anything, I was just kid—"   
  
Her head came up and the tears on her face stopped his defensive explanation. She got to her feet, ran for the door and was already there when he grabbed her from behind. "Don't leave, Vee." It came out as a plea.   
  
She yanked her arm from his grasp and turned around to spit viciously, "Don't ever touch me again. Don't you ever—" her voice broke on a sob, but she turned around and tore the door open, running out on to the landing.   
  
"Vee, wait, wait!" He ran around her and headed her off, not grabbing her as he wanted to, but hemming her in so she couldn't go down the stairs.   
  
"Leave me alone, Lincoln," she shouted, rubbing furiously at the tears on her cheeks.   
  
Finally he managed to grate out, "I'm sorry, okay?" He dropped his head and ground his fingers into his eye sockets. "I'm so fuckin' sorry."   
  
She stopped trying to get past him and looked up into his face. She must have seen something there that convinced her because if anything, the tears came harder and faster. Finally she sputtered, "I know," and then she wrapped her arms around her middle, like she was trying to hold the pain inside herself.   
  
He couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to, and he most definitely didn't want to. He gathered her up in his arms, holding her close against his chest. Her tears soaked his dirty, sweaty work shirt, but he held her as tightly as he could to absorb the convulsive sobs that wracked her body. For those few moments that he felt her pain as keenly as he did his own, he felt whole. For the first time in nearly a year, he felt like his heart was beating properly again. But he knew it could never last, and that when she finally got control and walked away from him, he'd have been better off to let her leave angry and upset.   
  
He lost track of the time, but slowly, the shudders in her small frame lessened. Her arms, which had been pressed into her body with the force of his arms around her eventually circled his waist and held on with gentle palms at the small of his back. They stood there, in the dim hallway holding each other for a small eternity. It struck Lincoln that he was having a more tender moment with Veronica right then than any of the moments he had ever spent with Lisa. He had done all he could to avoid acknowledging what this event brought into glaring clarity. He'd rather fight with Veronica than try to love anyone else.  
  
He was hopeless. He was a bastard, to torture her like this. He wasn't good enough for her, and a wife was the only way to make sure he stayed the hell away from her.   
  
Gently, he unwrapped his arms, and pushed her back. Her face was splotchy, but calm, and she didn't meet his eyes as she stepped back from him. "I thought it would be okay to come over, but obviously it's not." She couldn't have said anything that was more painful or truthful.   
  
Lincoln didn't say anything; there was nothing to be said. Nothing that should be said, anyway.   
  
"Tell Michael I'll see him tomorrow." She moved slowly around him, like maybe he would prevent her from going again.   
  
"All right."   
  
"Goodnight, Lincoln."   
  
"Goodbye, Veronica."   
  


 

  
  
  
A few days later, when Lincoln got home from work, Lisa met him at the door with bad news. "I took LJ to the clinic today because he was feverish. He's got an ear infection." Having no insurance meant having little access to medicines that were needful and necessary. "They gave me some antibiotic for today, but we'll need more..."   
  
"I'll get the money," was all Lincoln said.   
  
" _ How _ will you get the money?" she demanded, following him into the bedroom.   
  
He stripped off his work clothes and walked into the bathroom, turning the shower on. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it tonight. You'll be able to get the medicine tomorrow."   
  
"You aren't going to tell me what you'll do to get it, are you?"   
  
He stepped into the tub and looked at her as he tugged the shower curtain closed. "Why would you want to know? I take care of my family, Lisa, isn't that enough?"   
  
"You're my husband." The statement seemed to be waiting for further definitions.   
  
"I'm your husband," he agreed. "And I'm LJ's father, and I said I'll take care of it."   
  
She moved into the bathroom, reaching a hand up to touch his dirty face. He stood stiffly, not letting himself flinch away from the contact. "I know you take being a father very seriously, but a marriage is more than knowing you'll take care of it. We need to work together."   
  
He reached up and folded her hand in his, mostly so he could remove it from his face. "We are working together. You told me there's a problem, and I'm going to solve it."   
  


 

  
  
  
That evening, Michael had been regulated to babysitting duty and Lisa went to work while Lincoln went down to see an old friend. The dealer he had used in the past was good for letting you take the product to the street without any money or collateral, especially if you had delivered before. That was good, because Lincoln had no extra money to buy some weed to resell, so he got an advance from Arnie, and went to his corner. It was a strange sort of comfort to be back there, a place he'd avoided since Lisa showed up pregnant. Veronica's warning about getting arrested had seemed louder once he had a wife and baby on the way.   
  
By midnight, he had sold enough to get the medicine twice over and since that's all he was doing it for, he went back to Arnie's, whose office was over a bar. After giving back what he owed Arnie, he went downstairs and ordered a beer, hoping to relax a little before he went home. Despite his nonchalance on the street, he had felt tense all night, like it was just a matter of time before some cop jumped out of the shadows. Being a father changed everything. It was odd how he could have done anything reckless when he was responsible only for Michael, although he admitted to himself he'd drawn an imaginary line of how far he could go and he'd never crossed that line. LJ had changed it even further, and now he felt paranoid.   
  
Or maybe it was just Veronica's voice echoing in his head,  _ What will happen to Michael? _ He was the one who changed the wording to  _ What will happen to LJ? _ but it was still her voice, and her looking at him like he ought to know better. He chugged his beer and motioned to the bartender for another. Ever since he'd seen her earlier in the week, he'd been a mess. He'd managed to not think about her for the better part of a year, simply because he'd been too busy getting ready for the baby, providing all the things that his new household of four would need, as well as spending some terrifying moments waiting for the kid to be born. He didn't love Lisa, and he didn't fool himself or her that he did, but he'd still never been as scared as he was when she was in labor. It had been loud, and painful, and there was no escape. There was only one way for the baby to get there, and it seemed like the most horrific way imaginable to Lincoln. Blood, and screaming, and other bodily fluids. He definitely wasn't anxious to do it again any time soon, forget about money, relationships and the fact that he never had sex with Lisa anymore any way.   
  
In the beginning of their marriage, they'd attempted to carry on their relationship, such as it was, with some of the same enthusiasm they'd had prior to the baby announcement. The truth was, however, that the baby had doused any fire between them. And, of course, Lincoln, being a man, could find passion enough to feel the need for sex, but the first time he imagined Veronica instead of Lisa, he'd felt so awful that he had been fine with not doing it at all anymore. Lisa had also had morning sickness most of her pregnancy, so she hadn't felt well for the first seven months they were married anyway. And then the baby came, and well, before you knew it, a pattern had been established in which they were hardly more than roommates who slept in the same bed and loved the same baby.   
  
So, Veronica, with her ass in the air and her mouth all over LJ had put some thoughts in Lincoln's head that hadn't been there in a while, but they were only thoughts about Veronica; when he was around Lisa he couldn't even muster a half-hearted erection, so he was more than content to go out for the evening, get the money they needed, and sit right here on this barstool, drowning his sorrows.   
  
Thinking about Vee. Wanting her. Wishing for things that could never be. And hating himself for it.   
  
The bell rang over the door as someone came in, and Lincoln paid no heed to it, until he was jostled from the side as the new arrival ordered four beers to go. Turning his head, he saw the punk he'd stolen Veronica from on Halloween night. When the guy recognized him, he immediately moved down the bar from him a little bit. "Hey, man," he said, his gaze shifting nervously.   
  
Lincoln didn't respond, just angled his beer bottle up and drained the last of it. What the hell was he doing? Sitting here, thinking about stuff that he couldn't change and everything around him reminded forcefully of that exact thing. He nodded to the guy, dropped some money on the bar and called out, "Thanks," to the bartender so he knew he'd left his payment there.   
  
When he walked outside, he wasn't all the surprised to see Veronica, leaning against the hood of a car, smoking a cigarette. He wasn't surprised, because at first he wasn't sure he hadn't conjured her up himself. Maybe he couldn't even handle two beers anymore. Then he made the connection that she was in fact real and he was as angry as he'd been the time before, only with more ammunition and less reason.   
  
She saw him, and stood up straight, away from the hood of the car, moving closer to the passenger side door. Her gaze went over his shoulder, to the door of the bar. "He'll be out in a minute," Lincoln said, gesturing back towards the bar. "The bartender had to go open a crate or something. You know it's almost 2am?"   
  
"And a school night," Veronica added, crushing the mostly smoked cigarette under her shoe. She was dressed in a slinky black dress and wore shoes that resembled the ones he's ripped off her feet that night. That one glorious night that he couldn't stop thinking about.   
  
God, she was beautiful, and totally off limits, and he was suddenly more turned on than he'd been in a really, really long time.   
  
"When did you start smoking?" he asked, moving closer to her, like a moth to a flame.   
  
"I don't smoke. Just once in a while. I don't want it to be a habit."   
  
"That's how it becomes a habit, once in a while, yadda, yadda, you know."   
  
She just looked at him, one corner of her mouth going up in derision. "Don't worry about it," she suggested.   
  
He was standing right in front of her now, looking down into her face, longing with everything in him for it to be his right to reach out and touch her.   
  
"You're out late, for a daddy, aren't you?" she asked when he didn't take the bait and start arguing about the cigarettes.   
  
"Yeah," he nodded, his eyes traveling down the slopes of her breasts. They thrust enticingly against the silky fabric and he would have bet his life she wasn't wearing a bra. "I'm doing a whole lotta stuff I shouldn't be for being a daddy," he said quietly. He forced his eyes back to hers.   
  
"Like talking to me?" she asked.   
  
"Among other things."   
  
"Yeah, I thought I saw you at our spot over there." Her head nodded towards the street a few blocks up where he'd been earlier. "Rich and I were driving by, and he was smart not to stop this time."   
  
"'Our spot'?" Lincoln asked. He placed one hand on the roof of the car just an inch from her shoulder.   
  
"Rich and I. Sometimes we go there. You know, to be alone."   
  
Lincoln's eyes danced across her face. She was saying things that should mean something, but he was having a hard time focusing. All he wanted was to press her up against the car and grind himself into her. She had on too much make-up, but her lips were painted a deep red that felt like a siren song.   
  
"I have a boyfriend," she said, and it finally registered with Lincoln that she wasn't acting like Veronica at all. There was no warmth in her eyes, no pain that he was exacerbating, not even a glimmer of heat to match the rising temperature of his own body.    
  
"I have a wife," he said.   
  
"Yeah, but it matters to me," she said, putting her hand against his chest and shoving him back.   
  
"You give him what I didn't take?" he asked, feeling the heat and want morph into something ugly and dangerous.   
  
"Maybe," she replied, keeping her hand over his heart, keeping him from moving closer. Except that he knew he could overpower her at any time. He could make her do whatever he wanted; the sick thing was for the first time ever, he was tempted to do just that. Take with no give. Demand without caring. Turn what was an emotion-filled moment for him into nothing but dirty sex against a car. Treat her as if she didn't matter, because maybe if he did, she would stop mattering so much. Something that would never happen with the real Lincoln and Veronica. Something neither of them would ever have been a party to. Before.   
  
Before everything changed.   
  
"Hey, hands off, man!" Rich had reappeared, four beer bottles clutched in his hands. Lincoln spun to face him and without a thought, decked him. Rich dropped like a bag of bricks. Then Lincoln jumped on him, pummeling him until Veronica's screams drew someone out of the bar to pull him off the guy.   
  


 

  
  
  
By the time Lisa showed up at the police station, Veronica had cried all the make-up off her face. She sat in the chairs in the waiting area, where she'd been for four hours, hoping that Rich and Lincoln would come out at some point and tell her everything had been settled. A feeling of foreboding overwhelmed her the longer she sat there listening to the typing of a typewriter and when Lisa walked in, she dissolved into yet more tears.   
  
"Veronica? Wh-what are you doing here?" Lincoln's wife asked, doing a double take as she stopped at the information desk.   
  
Veronica wiped at her face with her hand and stood up shakily. "Lincoln..."   
  
"He beat someone up, I know, he called me. But what are you doing here? Did he call you too? Oh, this is just wonderful."   
  
"No, no," Veronica rushed to say. "He didn't call me. He...he beat up my boyfriend."   
  
Lisa turned away from the information desk without even asking a question. "Did your boyfriend do something to deserve a thumping?"   
  
Biting her lip, Veronica glanced away from the furious face of a woman she hated. She could really stir it up right now, if she so chose. But it was her fault any of this had happened; she had been deliberately provoking Lincoln even though she'd known something was off with him. "Not really," she finally hedged. "It was just a misunderstanding."   
  
"Is that right? What was the misunderstanding? That you were with some other guy? Or that you're dressed like a whore and Lincoln didn't like that?" The words flowed venomously and Veronica realized despite the friendly face Lisa had always put on the handful of times she'd seen her, she hated Veronica just like Veronica hated her. And for no other reason than Lincoln. The thought made Veronica start weeping again.   
  
She just shook her head and turned away. That was when her father walked through the door as well. "Thanks for calling me," he said, his face red with anger.   
  
"Daddy, I—" but she had nothing else to say, not when the tears were falling like an avalanche.   
  
"Are you free to go, or are they holding you here?" he asked.   
  
"I wanted to make sure Rich and—"  _ Lincoln. Oh, God, how had this happened? _   
  
"If you can leave, let's get out of here. I've got some yelling to do and I don't intend to have witnesses while I do it."   
  
Veronica reached for her purse and then turned back to Lisa. "Lincoln didn't do anything, Lisa. I mean, he didn't come looking for me, or anything like that. We just ended up at the same place."   
  
"Do you think I care how it happened?" she asked, her voice still filled with innuendo.   
  
"Nothing happened. He saw me, he misunderstood, he punched Rich. That's it; end of story."   
  
"Who are you trying to convince?"   
  
"Veronica,  _ let's go _ ," her father barked.   
  
She turned and followed her father to the car, knowing whatever followed was bound to make the last year seem like a picnic.   
  


 

  
  
  
She didn't go to school that day, since she didn't get home until the time she was usually rolling out of bed. Her father had lectured her for at least an hour, but then gave up when he could tell how upset she was. Of course, he thought she was upset because she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't and he tried to ground her, but she hadn't argued about it, or even brought up the fact that her 18th birthday was only two weeks away.   
  
She lay on the couch now, mindlessly watching a soap opera and waiting. She'd already called Rich's house, but he still hadn't gone home, or he wasn't answering his phone. Rich was 23, but he still could get in trouble for buying beer for a minor, which he obviously had been doing. But she only called Rich because she couldn't call Lincoln's. She wanted to talk to Michael, but she didn't want to tell him what had happened. It was such a mess and she was so sorry she'd done anything to cause it.   
  
It was all her fault.   
  
Lincoln hadn't been right when he'd come out of the bar. Maybe he'd had too much to drink, she didn't know, but he had acted like there was no reason not to touch her, or... He had never done that, except that one night, and since he had gotten married, he had steered clear of getting anywhere near her. But as soon as she'd seen the gleam in his eyes, she'd shut down, closing out the responsive feelings in her own body. He'd made her so mad in that instant because she could see plainly what he felt, what he wanted. Combined with the aggravation of their encounter earlier in the week, she found she just wanted to hurt him. She'd been stupid enough to think she could get over him, but the resurgence of her battered emotions proved that to be false. She wanted him to be as miserable as she was, which was the whole reason she'd been out with Rich in the first place. He wasn't even her boyfriend, though she thought he might want to be.   
  
She was still brooding over the entire situation when Rich showed up on her doorstep, and since her father was at work, she let him in. His face was bruised pretty badly, both eyes swollen, though not shut. There were cuts around his eyes and on his cheeks, where the impact of Lincoln's knuckles had split the skin. "I'm so sorry," she said, leading him into the living room to sit on the couch.   
  
"Hey, it wasn't your fault," he said, his arm wrapping around her shoulder to pull her into a hug.   
  
"Well, you know Lincoln. Thinks he's my big brother."   
  
"Yeah, right, Veronica. He wants you. He wasn't worried about me touching you so much as he was worried about me touching you  _ instead _ of him."   
  
"No," Veronica shook her head. "He's married, you know. And he and Michael and I have been best friends forever..."   
  
"Yeah, so why doesn't Michael ever try kicking my ass?" When she didn't answer, he shook his head and continued, "It doesn't matter. He'll think twice before he tries something like that again."   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"Well, I pressed charges. He's gonna serve some time," Rich's voice held a certain smugness.   
  
"What?" Veronica exclaimed, jerking herself from his grasp. She jumped to her feet and stared down at him. "It was just a stupid fight!"   
  
"Just a stupid fight? As I recall, he sucker punched me and then jumped on top of me. I didn't even take a swing at him. It was an attack, Veronica. He attacked me."   
  
"He has a family! He can't go to jail! Oh, my God! What were you thinking? How could you do this?"   
  
"How could I do this?" he repeated incredulously. He slowly stood up so they were facing each other. "How could  _ I _ do this? Look at my face!"   
  
"You're a little banged up! You didn't even go to the doctor!"   
  
He watched her with growing irritation. "Look, this will teach him a lesson. He won't go around beating up guys you go out with—"   
  
"Get out. Get out right now. I can't believe you would do this to him! He's got a baby! Did you know that? He has a four-month-old son! Who's going to provide for his family while he's in jail?" She shoved him towards the door. "Oh, get out!"   
  
"Get a grip, Veronica," he yelled, stumbling as she shoved him. "It won't be that long, it's only assault and battery!"   
  
"It's only a black eye! Oh, you idiot. Get out!" She pointed at the door and started crying again as she realized how out of control the situation had become.   
  


 

  
  
  
Several days later, the day before Veronica's birthday, she went down to the county jail where Lincoln was being held. He had been arraigned, but wasn't out on bail. She wasn't sure if that was just because Lisa couldn't afford to get him out, or because she was mad at him, or they wouldn't let him out on bail. He'd served a couple months in juvenile hall several years before, Veronica thought even before their mother died, but she couldn't remember for sure. She didn't think he'd be considered a flight risk, but then the only things she knew about the law were the things she'd seen on television.   
  
"Hi," she said to the guard at the front desk. They were separated by a chain link fence.   
  
"Can I help you, miss?" The guard was young, and he flashed a charming smile at Veronica.   
  
"I hope so," she said, feigning a note of vulnerability into her voice. She wrapped a strand of her hair around her finger and leaned closer to the fence. "Look, I need you to do me a big favor." She blinked her eyes, hoping she looked somewhat appealing.   
  
"What's that?" he asked, leaning closer himself.   
  
"My brother's in here...Lincoln Burrows. Now I need you to tell him it's his wife here to see him, because he told our other brother, Michael, not to let me come down here. He doesn't want me to see him, you know, incarcerated." When the guard nodded his understanding, she continued, "But if you tell him it's his wife here to see him, he won't refuse, you know, and then I'll already be there by the time he comes into the visiting booth. Please," she said, dropping her voice. "I really need to see him. You know how he feels, wanting to protect me and all, but I just need to see him, and see that he's okay." Big tears appeared in her eyes, but they weren't the magic of acting. She was terrified she wouldn't get to see Lincoln, and she was terrified of seeing him. He was going to be angry either way.   
  
The guard assured her he could work it out and left to notify Lincoln that he had a visitor. She stood in the waiting area, chewing on her thumbnail. She had talked to Michael the day before, and he didn't have all the details that would satisfy either of them, mostly due to the fact that Lisa was so mad at Lincoln over the whole incident that Michael had felt it better to keep some sense of normalcy in their house until Lincoln's trial. Since it was a minor offense, it seemed like it would be relatively soon.   
  
Fifteen minutes later she was escorted into the visiting area. All of the partitioned booths had plastic windows for viewing and phones for the inmates on one side and visitors on the other side. The sides of the booths were quite high, which allowed for privacy, but as Veronica took her seat she was told she could only see Lincoln for a half hour. She fidgeted with her purse strap until out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing on the other side of the window, a guard pulling out the chair for him. His legs were cuffed, but not his hands. She assumed that was because it was the county jail.    
  
His mouth was tight as he surveyed her through the plastic window. Then he heaved a sigh and picked up the phone. She watched him ask, "What the hell are you doing here?" before she picked up her phone.   
  
"I know you didn't want me to co—"   
  
"No, I didn't, and I told Michael to tell you to stay the hell away from here."   
  
"He told me. I just didn't listen."   
  
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"   
  
"I'm sorry, Lincoln. I had to see you to tell you that. I just wanted you to know that I had nothing to do with Rich pressing charges—"   
  
He leaned forward and poked his finger against the window. "You had everything to do with it. Why couldn't you just stay home where you belonged?"   
  
"Why, so you wouldn't pick fights on my behalf?" It flew out of her mouth before she even thought about it. Instantly she put her hand up in apology. "Lincoln, look, I'm sorry. That's what I came to say. I guess you can take it or leave it."   
  
"Yeah, that's about all the choices I've got from this side of the table."   
  
"How long are you going to be in?"   
  
"If I cop a plea, six months. If I fight it, probably longer. I'll probably just take the deal. Assuming Lisa will take me back when I get out, it seems like the best option."   
  
Veronica couldn't help the note of hope that sounded in her voice. "Did she say she wouldn't take you back? Is that why you aren't out on bail?"   
  
"I'm not out on bail so I can use my time 'already' served as part of the deal. It could be a week or two before it goes to trial, if I decide to fight it."   
  
"I could testify for you, if you decide to fight it," she offered.   
  
"Oh yeah? What would you say? 'Yes, your Honor, right after he backed me up against the car, he turned around and punched my date.' Somehow I don't think jailbait speaking in my defense would get me a better deal."   
  
She dropped his angry gaze and stared at the tabletop. She couldn't possibly best him in an argument right now, he was too fired up, and mostly correct. She fought the tears that hovered behind her eyes then took a deep breath. "All I can say is I'm sorry."   
  
He didn't respond immediately, but she could hear the cadence of his breathing and then a softer edge came into his voice. "I know, Vee."   
  
That brought her gaze up, and they just stared at each other. His turbulent blue eyes showed the same emotions that had gotten them to this place. She found that she just ached no matter what they did. She ached with love, and had ached with it for far too long. She pressed her fingers to the window, where his hand had been when he pointed angrily at her the moment before. "I love you, Lincoln," she said softly, her heart in her eyes. "I would never do anything to hurt you, or your family. Please tell Lisa..." She didn't finish. It wasn't right to pass a message on to Lisa. She coveted her husband. She hadn't gone out that night with the intention of causing a rift between Lincoln and his wife, but if that had been the result she would probably be the happiest girl in Chicago. It made her feel like dirt.   
  
His fingers touched the window where she had placed her hand. "You shouldn't be here," he said, and the tone of his voice conveyed more reasons than just the incongruity of Veronica and a jail.   
  
"No, I shouldn't," she said. "But I am. It's like I can't make it stop, Lincoln. I've tried. Really I have."   
  
He nodded. "I know." He paused momentarily before leaning forward slightly. "We just have to stay away from each other, Vee. It's gonna be easier with me on the inside for awhile. Just stay away from me. You'll be okay."   
  
"What about you?" she asked, tears starting to drip down her face.   
  
"I'll be fine. Worse has happened to me, right? I'll have plenty of time to remind myself why I need to stay the hell away from you."   
  
"I don't want you to stay away from me," she confessed, the tears coming harder.   
  
His jaw flexed before he forced the words out, "This isn't about what we want anymore. I've got a family, and I've totally let them down because..."   
  
"Of me," she finished when he seemed unable to.   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"I'm sorry," she repeated, feeling like a broken record.   
  
"Stop being sorry, Vee," he said, his voice sharp. "Just do what I need you to do. Please."   
  
Their eyes locked together one last time. Their hands stayed at the window, as if they were touching even though they couldn't feel each other at all. "Okay," she said slowly. Then she stood up, and walked out.


End file.
